


i’ve been awake in every state line (dying to make it last us a lifetime)

by fivesecrets



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing at Midnight, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-12-16 11:09:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivesecrets/pseuds/fivesecrets
Summary: scrunching his face up and bashing it against the pillow, trying to knock the memory out of his brain physically, removes him from the situation to the extent he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand lay itself delicately on his shoulder, the quiet, “shush, baby, i’m here,” the voice kai could pick out in any room, in any situation, at any point in time.  he doesn’t want to, especially because he knows his eyes are going to be so bloodshot and julian is going to have that look of concern painted on his face that might stab kai through the heart, but he opens his eyes against the torrent of tears and looks up at his boyfriend.or, in which kai’s injured and can’t sleep, and julian just wants to be there for him.from the tumblr prompt:“don’t be stupid. of course i want to stay up with you.”+ bravertz





	i’ve been awake in every state line (dying to make it last us a lifetime)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinterHasCome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterHasCome/gifts).

> • Title from _State Lines_ by Novo Amor.  
• This is purely an antidote for the hell I put myself through writing FTLT part 4.  
• I began to write this, then the horror injury to Andre Gomes in the Everton vs. Spurs game occurred. I decided against changing the plot, however I thought it'd be appropriate to send all my best wishes to Gomes, given this fic deals with the same situation.  
• For context, Kai played a game that kicked off at 4:30 PM, and Julian's kicked off at 8 PM.

Kai blinks softly, trying to curb the threat of tears over-spilling and trickling down his face. It’s already late, black sky expanding out into the horizon, so late that the flats in the neighbouring apartment blocks aren’t casting any light to make the inhabitants mere shadows to an onlooker. He wouldn’t be surprised if the desertion is due to the downpour that struck earlier in the day, the pitiful residue still pattering rhythmically against his apartment windows in sync with his tears, but it encompasses a feeling of isolation, loneliness that plagued him since the horror tackle that forced him out of the game earlier today. He’s just returned from the hospital, the dead weight of the terrible news (“you’re going to be out for six months,”) barely settling skin-deep, watching as his phone flickers with panicked incoming texts that he marks read and doesn’t respond to.

Part of him wants to fall against the sofa cushions and remain slumped until his limbs are stiff, and the morning sun has long since risen, but he steels himself and hobbles on the cast (the crutches the hospital designated are already blistering his hands, discarded inelegantly against the front door after Mitch drove him home in Kai’s car) over to the bathroom.

He looks as if he’s aged thirty years in one afternoon, pain forming deep, black bags underneath his eyes, contrasting repulsively with the blotchy red remnants of tears staining his cheeks. Right foot already aching from supporting his entire body weight, he brushes his teeth with every remaining ounce of energy, dragging his limp, plastered foot behind him as he makes his way into bed.

His sheets are cold, empty, mattress feeling far too big and welcoming for the solid, freezing, non-human entity that his pain has malformed into, lying alongside him and clasping his shaking body in its iron grip. Kai doesn’t remember it, but he must have brought his phone with him, because it’s still buzzing, a million more messages flooded onto the notifications screen. He’s dissociating as the light shines onto his face, right until his boyfriend’s name appears on the top of the screen as ‘typing…,’ the notification disappearing and reappearing enough times to give Kai a headache before the message finally pops up.

Julian’s game began at eight, and his boyfriend has always had a superstition not to look at his phone three hours before, hence the last message Kai received at 2:30, a shitty meme followed by wish of luck that conspired to backfire. Chances are, his boyfriend has just got back to his flat in Dortmund and is only just seeing the news. There’s no way he could miss it, all the news channels have been running close-ups of Kai’s agonised face seconds after the tackle, the way he screamed for help, words laced with expletive, other hand clutching his broken left ankle.

The texts from the older man race in, words mixing together in Kai’s head, well-wishes paired with love, amplifying how badly Kai misses him tenfold. Julian’s concern seems to increase in tandem, almost screaming at Kai as to why he isn’t responding.

The answer is because he simply doesn’t have the energy. He knows, tomorrow, he’ll have to make a million phone calls thanking and explaining the situation to everyone who’s exhibited concern, but for now, he’s going to fall against the still-cold sheets and try and sleep.

It doesn’t happen like that. The second he closes his eyes, he’s reverted back to the pitch, sloshing against the wet grass as he sprints towards where he knows Kevin will play the ball to, barely getting the chance to adjust to the ball against the instep of his foot when the defender comes clattering towards him. He prises his eyes open again, not even a minute has passed, it wasn’t a dream, simply the incident tattooing itself on the inside of his eyelids, pattern of the ceiling beginning to swim as the room begins to slowly circulate around him. He’s paralysed, unable to do anything, terrified to even blink, and worst of all, the cast on his leg hangs heavily, overburdening him, so foreign and heart-breaking a feeling that sleep renders itself impossible.

He’s been lucky to evade such a serious injury, such a prominent career setback, yet to accept it is almost therapeutic. All the stories of footballers he’s read, all of them seemed like they’d battled through some turmoil that threatened to destroy them, and it’s only fair it’s his turn to be subjected to the carousel of pain. 

The thought is only comforting for a matter of seconds before the tears pool again, not rolling down his cheeks but settling in the bags, probably making him look like a psychotic patient than the notoriously composed player he’s renowned to be. He’s alone, it’s not like Julian’s here so there’s no danger of waking him as Kai lets his body become wracked with the sobs he’d been concealing ever since the diagnosis, cries ringing out uncontrollably and consuming him until he’s a little ball of frustration and agony. He must seem so childlike, so helpless, it’s the worst feeling he’s ever experienced in his life.

He takes a second to try and catch his breath, juddering before breaking down into another bout of sobs. The silence is just about long enough to catch what sounds like the click of the front door and a gentle, “shit,” from whoever’s made their way into Kai’s apartment. If it was a mass murderer, he’d be grateful, as well as completely giving up his location with the volume of his cries.

Scrunching his face up and bashing it against the pillow, trying to knock the memory out of his brain physically, removes him from the situation to the extent he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand lay itself delicately on his shoulder, the quiet, “shush, baby, I’m here,” the voice Kai could pick out in any room, in any situation, at any point in time. He doesn’t want to, especially because he knows his eyes are going to be so bloodshot and Julian is going to have that look of _concern_ painted on his face that might stab Kai through the heart, but he opens his eyes against the torrent of tears and looks up at his boyfriend.

“Oh, Kai, I’m so sorry,” Julian breathes, resting on the side of the bed and almost falling backwards comically with the speed Kai moves to make space for him, the older one sitting atop the sheets and lacing a hand in Kai’s unbrushed, matted curls. “You know what I’m like, not checking my phone, none of the guys came to tell me, probably for my own sake, we both know I would’ve been sick with worry, so I only found out once I got back to my flat.”

Kai wants to say something, but he’s still struggling to breathe, so he makes do with blinking timidly at the soft, warm shape of his boyfriend above him, trying to convey how grateful he is that Julian actually came.

“My original plan was to video call you, and then drive down tomorrow, but then you were just reading my messages and not even sending an emoji like normal, so I got in the car and came straight here. I sped, so please don’t be surprised if I’m not the last person to turn up at your apartment tonight, the police are probably after me.”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Kai gets out, voice as broken as his heart is. He’s not even sure how, but the look in Julian’s eyes manages to get even softer, even when it’s blurred through the tears still in Kai’s eyes. He’s too exhausted, to numb to conjure the energy to keep them from falling, and it doesn’t help that Julian’s running a soft thumb over the back of his hand, the tears beginning to fall with an intensity that Kai didn’t expect, really, he should’ve been all cried out by now, “f-fuck, Jule, I-I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing---,”

“No, Kai,” Julian says, finally sliding down next to Kai and removing the hand in Kai’s hair to support his neck, bringing Kai in until he’s breaking down on the older man’s shoulder. “Let it all out, my love, it’s better like that. You don’t have to be embarrassed at crying in front of me, I’m not going to judge you, I’m just going to lie here with you and talk absolute shit until you’re ready to do whatever, we can go straight to sleep, or we can talk until it’s morning, or we can kiss, or we can have sex, it’s completely up to you. I’m here for you, Kai, through whatever, and that means you don’t ever have to feel humiliated if I see you cry, like I said, because I am ridiculously in love with you…,” Julian trails off, and Kai would pay to see whatever countenance Julian’s embodying right at that moment, laying his heart bare in words when Kai can only manage demoralised sobs. “I can shut up if you want?”

“No,” Kai chokes out into the fiery pool of tears staining Julian’s shirt. He can’t get anything else out, throat dry and depleted of oxygen, but Julian has never needed any more than that.

“Did I ever tell you the story of when I fell into the lake when I went to Rhododendron Park when I was about eight?” When Julian feels Kai shake his head, the aggression of the tears beginning to lift slightly, he begins to talk in a soft, sing-song voice. “I was there with my mum, dad, and Jannis, who must’ve only been four. Jascha wasn’t born yet. Mum and dad were talking, and then Jannis and I started playfighting like brothers do, but I wandered too close to the edge, jerked backwards when Jannis lunged for me and slipped into the water. I honestly think it was the first time I’d ever heard my parents swear. I came out with some pondweed hanging off my head and Jannis and I thought it was the funniest thing ever.”

It’s distracting enough to stop Kai’s tears, Julian smiling idiotically when Kai brings his head out from his shoulder, older man’s thumb pressed against the bubble teardrops underneath his eyes to wipe them away gently. It’s painfully domestic, Julian looks _so fucking beautiful_, he drove the whole way here in the middle of the night, in the middle of the pouring rain, just to come and support Kai.

When Kai voices the sentiment, Julian shrugs like it’s obvious, “I was worried sick, love. The weather and the rest of that shit, that’s irrelevant when you’re in pain. Speaking of which, do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Kai says, “not tonight, anyway.”

“Okay, love, do you need anything?”

“Just sleep, and for you to stay here.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere,” Julian breathes, tugging at the hem of his shirt with an eyebrow raised. It’s not sexual, Kai knows that, unless it’s the dead of winter, Julian can’t sleep in anything that isn’t just underwear. He nods, sitting up and admiring Julian’s figure as his boyfriend removes his shirt, messing his hair (and _shit_, that gives Kai ideas for later, when he’s not drained in both an emotional and physical sense), before kicking his sweatpants off and snuggling down underneath the covers. Kai does the same, hating the way Julian’s face clouds over with distress when he finally gets a proper look at the cast encasing Kai’s leg, before shuffling into his boyfriend’s arms.

It’s been so long since they were like this, pressed so close Kai could hear the gentle thrum of Julian’s heartbeat against his own, he’s sure the sudden, overwhelming comfort he’s longed for would send him straight to sleep. But, even when Julian’s got him, the moment he feels what must be Julian shake into sleep, the fears begin to intensify again.

Propping up his pillows to lean against them, wincing at the way his heart squeezes out of exhaustion in his chest, another couple of tears trickling their way down his cheeks, Kai watches the way Julian’s hands scrabble, even in his sleep, to find Kai. The nights they spend together are so few and far between now, non-cooperative schedules holding them apart with the exception of international breaks, maybe it’s almost a blessing in disguise that he can’t sleep, because at least he gets to watch Julian and the look of peace that settles on his face.

The look of peace that lasts precisely another two seconds, because the scrabbling becomes incessant, almost ticklish against the skin of Kai’s stomach, Julian’s eyes stumbling open and taking what seems like an age to find Kai.

“You’re crying again,” he says, moving to sit next to Kai with a yawn.

“I’m really not,” Kai answers, “it was just a couple of tears. You’re tired, love, don’t worry about staying up with me. I just can’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’d want to stay up with you,” Julian breathes, pulling Kai down so the younger one’s head is pressed against his chest. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Every time I close my eyes… I just see the defender sliding towards me, I swear to god my ankle just twinges every single time. It was so scary, Jule, I couldn’t move, I saw his face as he came into me…”

“That’s normal, love. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be. You had a game today as well; you’re bound to be just as tired.”

“It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay, Kai,” Julian says, eyes belying all the seriousness hardening under his gentle tone, and Kai can’t help it, he has to lean up and kiss him, they haven’t done that nearly enough since he arrived, and it’s not like he could think of a response that Julian wouldn’t immediately rebuke. It starts like Julian’s voice, all soft and loving, as if candyfloss could manifest itself in a kiss, Julian’s lips simply sliding against Kai’s own as the younger man’s eyes fall shut, but then there’s a primal instinct to get closer, the one that prompts Kai to lock his hands on Julian’s body and kiss him in a way that leaves his boyfriend flushed, his lips kiss-bitten, and it almost impossible to keep from kissing him again.

“I missed that,” Kai admits, in complete disregard of the situation beforehand. 

“I did too,” Julian says, but he can’t shake the put-out look from his face. “What time is it?”

“Half midnight or something,” Kai answers, not taking his eyes off the older man’s face for a second, watching the way the blue in his eyes melts into black through exhaustion (and maybe, Kai’s presence, sometimes he still doesn’t believe that Julian’s really in love with him), pressing a kiss on his forehead. Thoughts of his ankle are almost forgotten when Julian suddenly flips them over, lying on top of Kai and he has to bite his own lip sharply to keep from making a sexual comment.

“Kai, if it’s okay with you, I want to talk to you about your injury.”

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope. Tell me everything, no matter how bad it is.”

“I’m out for a minimum of six months,” Kai begins, thinking back to the grave faces of the doctors trying to express the most empathy they could muster, “and I’ve got to go back for surgery tomorrow, alone. Then it’s months and months of rehab and, fuck, Jule, I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to do it.”

“Firstly, if you think for another second that you’re going to that surgery alone, you’re a fucking idiot,” Julian whispers, sounding altogether too charged and making Kai’s stomach flutter ridiculously. He’s always had that ability, from the very first time Kai laid his eyes on him. “You know I’d never force you to do anything, and if you really decided rehab wasn’t worth it, I’d support you even then, but I hope you know I am going to be with you every single step of the way, Kai. I love you; I love you so much I don’t even know what to do with myself sometimes, hence why I drove here even when it was throwing it down, just to see you.”

“You’re the fucking best,” Kai mumbles, finally feeling some sort of consciousness drain from his body. “I love you too, Jule. I know I’ll be okay.”

“You will,” Julian smiles, leaning over to wrap Kai in his arms, consume him in his bare warmth, “I’m not going to sleep until I know you’re long gone.”

Kai’s too out of it to respond to anything Julian says afterwards, but he just about catches most of it, revels in the cracks in Julian’s voice when he murmurs sweet nothings, hand holding onto Kai’s tightly, resting against the bedsheets by Kai’s chest. It doesn’t take much for Kai to fall asleep after that, his day-terrors not merging into nightmares, they could never when Julian has him.

He wakes earlier the next morning, turns and stares at his boyfriend’s sleeping form. It still feels like the first time.

He might be scared about the surgery, the recovery, but he’s got Julian, his shield, the one man who could get him through Hell. He watches as the older man wakes, mirrors the small smile that rests on his boyfriend’s mouth, presses a kiss to Kai’s lips with a hoarse “good morning.” 

‘And he will,’ Kai thinks.


End file.
